Have you ever cracked the spine of a book so aggressively that the break makes a loud “ＰＯＰ”? I know, I’m a monster… At least I have popsickles!
For this weeks #nordicsoulquotes series, we have a special one from b00kdragon ! Go check out their lovely account! •
“Ｐｅｒ ａｓｐｅｒａ ａｄ ａｓｔｒａ． － Ｔｈｒｏｕｇｈ ｈａｒｄｓｈｉｐｓ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｓｔａｒｓ.” (Morning Star)
Tag someone who helps you reach for the stars! I’m tagging miinja3 because this gal is always helping reach for the stars. Miss you like crazy! Also, if you have quotes to share, tag us💓

Where do I roam during my darkest hours, where do I walk in my sleep, where did I fly in my infancy, no one knows, no one ever did, and there is no one with a torchlight in the vicinity to warrant us in this wanton fog, that the weather is likely to clear up soon. Where am I now. Where are we now. We are a world perilously unperched, dangling in half-limbo awaiting fate and each one of us hang with our fingernails from all sides of this planet, balancing to a precarious squeaky seesaw equilibrium, this leaning tower of our slanted axis'ed Earth, with prayers and equations - to halt us from where we are headed with Joan Baez sincerity. We are headed straight for a fall. And every and each one of us have sensed the missing stair in the darkness, we have decelerated into our little cavities of caution, we are on the lookout for someone with a torch, not knowing there's no one in the vicinity, to point out any direction, an escape, not even a single tunnel, forget the halo'ed light at the end. And yes, I look around and I realise that world has retreated, in each and every part of this world that has forever been our only world, and I have retreated along with it too. Maybe just a shade, maybe a meadow, but in all honesty, we are temporarily dazed below fluffy cirrus clouds of unsurity, we are all absently hesitating. We are one infra-red wavelength behind our normal rhythm, no microscopic distance forward but a giant leap backwards at farewells and being razed to the ground as a kind, as one of a kind, as human, and the failure of mankind becomes my personal teardrop. And every night as I turn in, when I'm wandering about in the Baskerville moors of my nocturnal insomnia, or tightroping the peripheries of welcome sleep, I realise that I am yet to know anything of any significance about my own self still, I am yet to know the reason for this breath of fresh air called life, this final gasp at air called life, but I realise I'm just hanging, poised and hesitated, unperched on asleep, holding my breath, holding my air, and headed straight for that Baez fall - maybe right in the gap of a missing stair on my mysterious walk, in the middle of my awakening slumber.